Monday, October 31, 2016
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Just like that.
I don't know why this fascinates me so but it does, at least for now. It is entirely possible that I'll forget by tomorrow and at some point years down the line I'll come across the story again like it's the first time and I'll say,
Holy shit, that's fucked up.
Just like the very first time. I can't even say I've never read about Lake Nyos before today, so there you go.
Life is pretty tenuous.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Five years ago today I fully grasped Metamorphosis for the very first time. Schools give these books to children long before they have the life experience or any real capability to understand them. Kafka is wasted on youth. Sartre as well.
Would you call this growth or is it merely the necessity of being alive long enough to devolve to the level of base awareness. For all the delusions of humanity to erode and crumble away like dry mud.
So what do you tell kids in the meanwhile when they feel you are wasting their time?
Don't worry. You're going to just wake up one day thirty years from now and have a holy shit moment.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Something so simple as having a set of keys so often taken for granted. Is there a holy being that wouldn't condemn us for letting this happen?
It's more apparent now with the cold weather. More of the lost tribes are coming underground and the ones still out on the street become more obvious. They are ill-equipped for even a mild winter, probably the only souls who may benefit even a little from this global warming thing.
I have keys for now and further away from being without than just a year ago. It was probably never as close as it seemed but heading off to housing court in the early days of November was humbling.
If you're up there you son of a bitch you better wake up and mind your children. Even the bad ones. Don't talk to me about compassion and responsibility and then do jack shit about this.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Friday, October 21, 2016
I'm starting this not knowing quite what I intend to say nor with any set goal or direction. It's about throwing bones maybe, and seeing how it reads when it's all stopped rolling.
It has something to do with the phrase, "restore us to sanity," but the intent isn't to poke about in adolescent philosophy. It's part of the 12 Steps line, "and only a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity." We can leave the higher power bit out of it. It's inconsequential to what's nibbling at me. No argument there. Just trust me.
So it's winding down slowly to seven years without a drink or a drug stronger than ibuprofen. It's not a condition I would or could have imagined even eight years ago yet here it is, two months away from seven years clean and sober. Have I been restored to sanity? Yah, maybe. The jury is out on that. It would probably depend on who you ask. People have called me angry. Others have described me as a dry drunk. It's entirely possible that their higher power, in his infinite wisdom since he makes no mistakes and everything happens for a reason, made me exactly as they see me. It's possible that he creates assholes and angry men as part of his system of checks and balances. Who knows?
I know I feel okay. Better, in fact, than at any point in my life. There's something to be said for this self acceptance trip. I won't say I'm quite there but it's closer than ever. I'm okay. The issue remains that some days it would be nice to numb out and dip into the "old-fashioned" insanity. The desire not to feel every little damn thing seems perfectly sane to me. The craving for a quiet mind doesn't seem entirely unreasonable.
But yes, at what cost? That doesn't escape me. I'm still paying old debts, both spiritually and monetarily. There are still days and weeks of being frozen in place. It's not a switch with me. It's more of a wide gate and once it swings open then that's pretty much it.
It's just interesting to discover that sobriety and sanity aren't necessarily the same thing. The Crocodiles told me that at five years I would get my brains back. That wasn't a lie but they could have warned me that it might not come back in one piece. It just didnt. I might have asked for someone else's had I known.
How was anything supposed to restore me to sanity when I was never sane to begin with? And why bother when everything else is fucking nuts? That's all i want to know.
Expectations again. Have fewer expectations and you'll have fewer disappontments.
This will be another placeholder. There is a mouse in my head, nibbling holes in the fabric of what i had thought would be this sanity thing.
I don't want to drink but I won't lie and say this always feels good.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Um... yes... but he's two, and I'm not sure if he can motor far enough on his fat little toddler legs to get to the dope spot and back. Should I be worried?
Does your child make or receive strange phone calls?
Yes, and he doesn't even have a phone. I should call someone, right?
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
I don't usually mess with sports stuff but this is artful. It also recalls an interesting time in my life, immersed to my eyebrows in liquor and drugs... Chaotic and often unpleasant and sometimes violent, but not necessarily bad.
You have to have lived that way to understand that.
Monday, October 17, 2016
It can be said of most people who dabble in the arts, probably, that each writer or painter or sculptor, is their own harshest critic. Who am I to wreck that flow or bend rules?
I spent some time yesterday mining ancient scrolls, brushing away dust and picking away the decay. The final decision remains that a career away from writing, prose or otherwise, was never such a bad idea. The revelation, however, is that there has been marked growth as a person and as an adult person. Some may argue that this statement is either too kind or too optimistic but I'm sticking with it.
I am sticking with it.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Sunday night and the park has been filled this weekend. It's been warmer and sunny but some of the trees have gone red and orange and there's a sense that something less hospitable is coming.
A father though was at the edge of the lake teaching his son to skip rocks on the water and I felt something good and real like not the delusional nostalgia that we all suffer from sometimes. There were autumn days like this one way back and a few not so way back and they were good.
They were real.